Thinking that fifteen minutes was enough time to get my well-practiced five minute warmup done with time to spare, Cindy and I headed out the door. Clearly, this was poorly thought out.
As we made our way to the start, the crowd got more and more dense, until finally it was like being in the middle of a house party. So, there we were, still in full sweats, stuck in the crowd, with something like six minutes to get to the line, strip down, and get warmed up. Nerve wracking!
We eventually found our way around to the start line with time for a few short strides, which was just as well, because I was warmed up well enough from the stress. I got a few short strides in around race pace, and took in about 100 Calories of my drink. Talking with Dick Beardsley calmed me down, strangely enough, at least until the gun fired for the wheelchair racers. Lost in the conversation, I heard somebody say 'gun's up!' and momentarily FREAKED OUT thinking I had just missed the marathon start.
At some point in the conversation, I told Dick it was my first marathon, and upon finding that out, he proceeded to nearly shake my arm out of its socket. What a great experience! He is every bit as engaging and down to earth as the character that comes through in his books.
Okay, come on, let's hear about the race! I made eye contact with Chad Wallin, the eventual winner, just before the gun. He gave me a nod and a brief smile, which told me that he knew more about me than I knew about him. I got the feeling I was the unknown, the dark horse. Kind of a cool feeling, but ultimately irrelevant, as Chad would go on to kick my ass by over two minutes. I went as most dark horses do--into the vapour trail of the winner.
[Course map]
As the gun sounded, I tapped the watch and immediately set to work on my first task--a slow initial five miles. Mile one was a 5:53 with a slight tailwind, though the time at the mile marker was 5:46. I wasn't startled, as I had learned to trust my watch. And sure enough, mile two was a 5:50 on the watch, but a 6:01 on the marker. After that, I settled in to a 5:45 pace for a third, and ultimately final, warmup mile. Three out of five turned out to be pretty good, and I settled in feeling that I had invested a twenty second deficit from race pace very wisely.
I was very relaxed through the first part of the race, and found myself playing to the crowd quite a lot. It gave me a lot of confidence to be able to chat a bit with some of the people assembled along the course. I knew if I could comfortably talk and maintain my pace, I was at the right effort. The people were very enthusiastic and friendly, yelling out "Go FOUR!", or "Nice pace, FOUR!". Once in a while, and this was especially helpful toward the end, I would hear, "I can't believe how fast he's running."
If you're ever spectating the last few miles of a marathon, do the runners a favor and whisper that loudly to a neighbor. It really helps.
Mile seven was the first of three 'elite' aid stations. I had been allowed to place my bottles on the tables, even though I didn't officially qualify for 'elite' status. I grabbed my first bottle, and spent a good three-quarters of a mile getting it down. During that time, I passed Scott Colford, the eventual number four finisher. This was the only part of the course that stood me up like a sail, with the wind at my back.
It only lasted for a little over a mile, but I tried to use it as much as possible. I think I went 5:30-5:35 for that stretch, and I would have gone faster if not for the voice of reason in the back of my head telling me to conserve fuel, even at the cost of giving up the tailwind.
As mile nine passed, the wind picked up, and the bike path gave way to an open six lane road. This was the first of what would be seemingly endless stretches of freezing polar gales blowing me backwards over the last half of the course...
Part Two
Tomorrow--part two of a three
Run Two | Weather | Supplemental | Nutrition | Sleep | Injury
3 comments:
You're serializing it?? My God man, I'm glad I know how it ends. I like the first part, but I don't recall ever being relaxed enough to really take in the spectators' conversations. It sounds like it was a smartly run first third.
Nobody ever commented how fast I am running. And somehow I don't think they ever will.
Don't let us wait too long, please.
you had me at
Race morning was pretty relaxed until about 7:00 a.m.
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